"Then you think that my--my imagination has been playing me
tricks?"

"My dear boy! Nothing of the kind. Come back to your place
and tell me the whole tale?" She smiled again, and patted the
couch invitingly.

But Chilcote's balance had been upset. For the first time he
saw Lillian as one of the watchful, suspecting crowd before
which he was constantly on guard. Acting on the sensation, he
moved suddenly towards the door.

"I--I have an appointment at the House," he said, quickly.
"I'll look in another day when--when I'm better company. I
know I'm a bear to-day. My nerves, you know." He came back
to the couch and took her hand; then he touched her cheek for
an instant with his fingers.

"Good-bye," he said. "Take care of yourself--and the kitten,"
he added, with forced gayety, as he crossed the room.


That afternoon Chilcote's nervous condition reached its
height. All day he had avoided the climax, but no evasion can
be eternal, and this he realized as he sat in his place on the
Opposition benches during the half-hour of wintry twilight
that precedes the turning-on of the lights. He realized it in
that half-hour, but the application of the knowledge followed
later, when the time came for him to question the government